


I've Got A Past With Creatures Unlike You

by sweetNsimple



Series: Short Marvel Stories That I Didn't Feel Like Making Longer [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Barton's Family Is Shit, Clint Is Starstruck, Dom/sub, Dominant Clint, Dominant/Submissive, Except For His Mother, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Subbiest Sub Who Ever Subbed, Submissive Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It never ceased to surprise Clint when he managed to sweet talk a Sub into a date.  Not because he doubted his own charm or looks – because he was a charming, good-looking motherfucker, no doubts there – but because, goddamn, shouldn't they be terrified of him?  Weren't Dominants like, the greatest threat to their safety?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got A Past With Creatures Unlike You

It never ceased to surprise Clint when he managed to sweet talk a Sub into a date. Not because he doubted his own charm or looks – because he was a charming, good-looking motherfucker, no doubts there – but because, god _damn_ , shouldn't they be terrified of him? Weren't Dominants like, the greatest threat to their safety?

 

Hell, Clint had had his fair share of shitty Dominants, and he hadn't even been the one they were after! Well, usually. But the rare cases were mostly for something different than sex.

 

Mostly.

 

But, whatever. The point was, these Subs trusted him to take them out for the night, wine and dine them like a true gentleDom, and then love them good between the sheets of whosoever bed they landed in. Weren't they worried? At all? When they would leave him alone at the table with their drinks and meals, didn't they realize he could slip them a predator drug? And then, when they would get into his car, weren't they worried that he'd drive off with them, making them another Missing Persons case?

 

And then, oh, shit, they'd go into Subspace and they would trust him, explicitly, completely, to give them what they needed by taking what he wanted, without breaking them for good.

 

What was  _wrong_ with these people?

 

Didn't they know what he was capable of? Yeah, sure, Clint had (eventually) come to the realization that not all Doms were bad and not all Subs were good, but it just seemed like there were too many Subs of worth – better worth than him, anyway – hanging around guys like him.

 

Who they  _shouldn't_ be trusting in the first place! 

 

Clint could see the irony in it, at least. The double standard that kept stabbing him in the back. Here he was, a Dominant, who hated and couldn't trust other Dominants. God, most days, he swore he was afraid for all those naive Subs that kept walking around without chain-mail and tasers.

 

It was probably just the way he was raised, the people he was raised around, that made him that way. He'd seen his mom take it good from his drunken asshole of a father often enough, saw her crumble into herself. She'd be in  S ubspace and his dad would start cursing her out, beating her down,  breaking bones and self-esteem. When money got tight, he'd even bring by a few other  D oms, and they'd pay dollars to his dad and take her into the bedroom.

 

Sometimes, Clint thought the day his mom had died must have been the happiest day of her adult life.

 

And then there was Barney, his brother, who took up from Dear Old Dad. Clint would watch him bully the Subs at the orphanage. Take them out of the nuns' sight and tell them to drop their pants.

 

Clint hadn't liked it, but he wouldn't realize that he had been supposed to stop it till a few years later. It was one of those things that haunted him. Whatever, though, right?

 

Whatever.

 

When they'd left for the circus, stuff hadn't really changed. The  D oms there, they didn't pay the  S ubs that worked under them. The  S ubs paid  _them_ . The Swordsman, his teacher, wasn't a great role model  in any sense of the word .

 

Clint was fucking  _eighteen_ before he even realized that he was a  D om too. It just never occurred to him that he was the same as the bottom-feeding assholes he hated. Hadn't that thrown him for a loop...

 

Twenty-eight years old, it still shocked him whenever a Sub idled up to him with a sort of trust that no one should give to a perfect (Dominant) stranger.

 

What shocked him more at the moment, though, was Phil Coulson. The most dominant  S ub he had ever met, the one and same who had shot Clint in the leg on that long ago day, four years to the date, and had then proceeded to put a pen in his hand and help him  sign  (had wrapped both warm, long-fingered hands around Clint's  empty hand as the other spasmed around his gushing thigh, and had basically signed it for him) his S.H.I.E.L.D. contract while he bled all over the backseat of Phil's rental car – the very same  S ubmissive who had several times called Fury 'Marcus' and lived to tell about it – was also the most kickass person Clint had ever met. Status aside, hands down, no one was better than Phil.

 

And Clint could say that in all honesty because Coulson had just taken a FUBAR mission and morphed it into a success using fishing line and a (wild, kid you fucking not) bear.

 

While the terrified screams of their enemies mingled with the enraged roars of the biggest, most pissed off polar bear Clint had ever even thought existed, Clint was studying his partner-in-crime with none of the subtlety he had harvested over the past years of knowing this incredible, dangerous man.

 

Holy Fuck, he'd kill to be the Dom who came home to Coulson.

 

Phil just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, bottom lip busted, face flushed from the cold,  pressed belly-down to the ice and snow  like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “What is it, Barton?”

 

“Just wonderin' what it would take to get you in my collar,” he said, half-shrugging to make it sound not as serious as he actually meant it.

 

Phil still shot back around, eyes minutely wider. His mouth open on a stuttered gasp.

 

It was the most shocked and vulnerable he had ever seen his handler, and it did not at all help his raging crush on the man.

 

It took less than a minute for Phil to recompose himself and focus back on the carnage happening just downwind of them.

 

“A date wouldn't be out of order,” Coulson said a little while later, looking as relaxed and untroubled as if they were talking over the pages of a newspaper.

 

Clint almost whooped for joy. Would have whooped for joy, gotten to his feet, and spun Phil around in crazy, white-picket-fence-happiness, if not for the polar bear glancing wearily in their direction.

 

“It would be an honor,” he choked out instead. Coulson might figure out he wasn't worth it during the dates, or maybe he was just joking now, but, it was fine.

 

Clint would take what he could get.

 

~::~  ~::~ ~::~ ~::~ ~::~ ~::~ ~::~

 

Tony could admit to being too distracted to notice the strange and unusual debacle happening in the kitchen when he got back to the Avengers Tower that evening. For one, Captain America was with him – one of the most iconic Submissives in America's history was smiling at him, shy as you please and excited after the walk through the Metropolitan Museum – and keeping him company.

 

Good God, Steve had to be the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth, and he was doing it at Tony's side. It was sort of giving him a complex. Well, more of a complex. A different sort of complex.

 

After all their arguing and the insults, a little awe and pride wasn't too bad.

 

Then Steve's head whipped around, baby blues going wide, and he'd made a half-choked sound that could have been a name, could have been a curse, could have just been him strangling on air, but it was fine. Steve was okay.

 

He was just shocked and Tony couldn't blame him when he glimpsed what was going down in the kitchen.

 

Or, better yet, what was already down.

 

He whistled low and leaned against the doorway, drawing the attention of both men at the table. Agent Agent was on his knees, demure as a babe between Hawkeye's spread legs while Clint fed him the choicest bits from his plate of fruit and cheese. Coulson was wearing a simple purple leather collar around his neck, out of his suit and in some worn out blue jeans and a sweater instead that Tony knew for certain had come out of Clint's wardrobe.

 

Phil blinked at him with a daze in his eyes Tony had come to know meant he was up high and happy in Subspace while Clint glared at him to leave.

 

“Tony,” Steve said from next to him, serious and in control, “I think it's time to go do – do that thing.” Or not so in control, which was incredibly endearing. “That thing down in the garage that you wanted to do.”

 

“Stevey, there is suddenly something completely different I want to do with you down in the garage, and it's a lot filthier than this vanilla act.”

 

“Stark,” Clint interrupted, keeping his tone soft. Tony could understand that. Subs in Headspace took everything they heard and felt to heart. If Phil got an inkling that any of them, except maybe Steve who was also a submissive, were upset with him, he'd take it personally.

 

Which Tony did not want. So he actually gave in.

 

Just this once, though, because this was his goddamned kitchen and Clint should have known better.

 

“Right, it's fine. Steve and I are going.” He opened his mouth, about to tease Coulson with 'And you be a good boy for your Dommy', before he stopped himself.

 

He respected Clint and Coulson, though he might not show it, too much to do that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: There's more that I wanted to write, about how Coulson grew up hiding just how much of a subby Sub he is, how he tried to give up everything for Clint because that's what a normal, old-fashioned, traditional Sub does for their Dom and Clint wouldn't let him. Didn't happen. This was inspired by a prompt that I can no longer find. If anyone knows where it is, I would be happy to credit it.


End file.
